“Good. I like you just the way you are.” When he said sweet things like that, she could almost forget that he was a self-indulgent jock who spent most of his time in a locker room.
“I have a weird little toe,” she felt compelled to point out.
“That’s okay, honey. Your rack makes up for it. You have a great rack, and I don’t think that makes me a perv. Just observant.”
She laughed because he was totally serious.
Two nights later, she and Conner went to his game against the Carolina Hurricanes. They wore Chinook T-shirts and bought hot dogs and Cokes and tried not to cringe when Sam got knocked around or put the “big hurt” on someone. He skated up and down the ice, passing the puck or firing so fast Autumn lost track of it altogether. She noticed that he talked a lot out on the ice, and she was sure she was better off not knowing what he said. Especially when he had to sit out four minutes in the penalty box.
“That player there”—Conner pointed to a Carolina player—“is crashing Dad’s zone. He’s not going to like that.”
Autumn really didn’t have a clue what her son was talking about until Sam slammed the player into the boards and the Plexiglas shook. Autumn gasped as he dug at the puck with his stick and shot it down ice. He looked up, sweat dripping down his nose. For one brief second, his gaze met hers, and he smiled.
Suddenly she knew how that Carolina player felt. Like she was getting slammed around. Like he was putting the “big hurt” on her, only she liked it and wanted more.
Her chest got kind of tight and panicky. She had to pull back. She didn’t trust Sam. She didn’t trust herself. Like before, everything was moving too fast. And this time, if and when it ended, she wasn’t the only one who would suffer.
And yet, that night he came to her house like he belonged there. He said good night to Conner, then moved into the kitchen. “Do you have any frozen peas in here?” he asked as he opened the freezer.
He wore black sweatpants, a blue Chinooks T-shirt, and a big red mark on his cheek. “Mixed veggie medley.”
“That’ll do.” He took it out and shoved the bag beneath the elastic of his sweats. “The organization just hired a new forward from Russia.”
She smiled. She liked how he told her things about his day and asked about hers.
“He’s young, though,” Sam continued. “Seems kind of irresponsible, selfish, and reckless.”
He sounded like a hockey player to her, and she lifted a brow and looked at him.
He chuckled. “I’m not that reckless these days.”
“Well, I guess one out of three is…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “ . . . progress.”
He grinned like a proud, reformed sinner. “I’m working on the other two.”
She leaned her behind against the counter and folded her arms across the fish on her shirt. “You might want to work a bit harder.”
“I have been working harder. I thought maybe you noticed.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Maybe you should show me some appreciation.” He grasped her forearms and slid them around his waist. “Show some encouragement.”
And she did. She encouraged the hell out of him all night long, but the next morning, he was gone. They’d both agreed that he should not be there in the morning when Conner got up. Or rather, she’d set down the rule, and Sam had reluctantly agreed. He didn’t see anything wrong with Conner seeing so much of his parents together, but he clearly wasn’t thinking about the future. About the day when he wouldn’t be around as much. Autumn thought about it, though. A lot. Thought about it and felt like she was sitting around, waiting for the axe to fall on her throat.
“I made a picture,” Conner told her at the breakfast table the next morning. While she poured his Cheerios, he ran to his art station. Conner was officially on Christmas break from school, and she had an event planned for a local charity that afternoon at the Four Seasons. Normally, she’d take Conner to his day care, but Sam wanted to spend time with him before hitting the road for Chicago later that night. She expected him at eleven after his morning practice.
Conner ran back into the dining room and set a piece of white notebook paper on the table. “Come look, Mom.”
Autumn poured herself a cup of coffee and sat next to Conner. On the paper beside his cereal bowl, he’d drawn a picture of her and Sam with himself in the middle. The figures were all holding hands and had big lopsided smiles. For the first time, he’d drawn them all as a family. “This is you and me and Dad.”
Her stomach fell as she drank her coffee. “That’s a good picture. I like my pink skirt.” She swallowed hard. “But you know your daddy just comes over sometimes to see you. Right? He doesn’t live here.”
Conner shrugged. “He can if he wants.”
“He has his apartment downtown.”
“But he can move here. Josh F’s dad lives at his house with him.”
“Conner, not all dads live in the same house with their children. Not all families are like Josh F’s. Some families have two dads,” she said to take his mind of things that weren’t going to happen. “Or two moms.”
Conner shoveled Cheerios into his mouth. “Dad can move in if he wants to, Mom. He has a big truck.” Like it was just a matter of Sam packing up his truck and moving in. “And then you can make me a little brother.”
She gasped. “What? You want a brother?”
Conner nodded. “Josh F. has a little brother. So Dad has to move here so I can have a brother.”
“Don’t get your heart set on it, Conner.” He suddenly wanted his parents under the same roof and a brother?
“Please, Mom?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said by rote, her mind tumbling as fast as her stomach. A brother for Conner wasn’t going to happen.
She pushed her coffee aside, the acid burning a hole in her chest. There had been a time when she’d wanted the same thing as Conner. She’d wanted it in Vegas, and the day she’d signed the divorce papers. She wanted it the night she’d discovered she was pregnant and the morning she’d given birth to their son. She’d loved Sam. It had taken her a long time to get over him, and somehow, she’d fallen in love with him again. Only this time it was worse. This time it felt deeper, comfortable. Like they were friends and lovers. She actually knew him now, and it was so much worse than the first time. The first time, she’d fallen in love with a charming, intense stranger. This time she’d fallen for a charming, intense man. He was real.
She rose from the table and moved to her bedroom. She took a shower as if her nerves weren’t a wreck. As if her mind wasn’t racing and her heart not pounding. She got ready for her day and dressed in a pair of black wool pants and cashmere sweater with pearls on the collar. Her hands shook as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
She loved him, and there was a tiny piece of her silly heart that held out hope that maybe he loved her this time, too. He’d joked about it twice, but that’s all it had been. A joke. Like before.
This time she wasn’t a scared twenty-five-year-old. This time she knew the outcome.
The sound of Conner’s current favorite movie blared from the television as Sam walked downstairs to Autumn’s basement office. He wanted to talk about Christmas and spending it together that year.
He paused in the doorway to watch her profile for a few moments. Her red ponytail slid over one shoulder and brushed her white throat as she slid a planner into her tote. He swallowed past the sudden constriction in his throat. He remembered a time when he’d looked at her and hadn’t even thought she was beautiful. Hadn’t wanted to think it. Had purposely dated women the exact opposite of Autumn, so he wouldn’t be reminded of her and the reasons he’d fallen for her in Vegas. He outweighed her by about a hundred pounds at least, but she had the power to wipe the floor with him.
“When will you be home?” he asked.
She looked up and quickly glanced back down. “Late. You should probably stay at your own place
.”
Something was wrong. Different. It was there in the ridged stillness that suddenly surrounded her. “I’ll be gone for eight days,” he reminded her.
She turned and grabbed a pen off her desk. “Conner will look forward to your nightly calls.”
He cleared the constriction in his throat. “Will you look forward to my calls?”
She pulled open a drawer but didn’t answer.
He moved into the room and took her arm. “What’s going on, Autumn?”
She looked up at him, and he saw it. In her green eyes. The look he’d never hoped to see again. Pain and uncertainty and withdrawal. Like the first time she’d laid Conner in his arms. “Conner is confused,” she said, and she took a step back, separating herself from him with more than just space. “I think it’s best if we don’t spend as much time together.”
This had little to do with Conner. Frustration tightened his skull, and he wanted to shake her. He purposely loosened his grip and dropped his hand. “You can’t keep blowing hot and cold. You can’t pull me in even as you push me away.” He took a step back, too. To protect himself from the pain rushing at him. “You can’t keep looking at me like you expect me to break your heart at any moment.”
“And you can’t expect me not to.”
Something happened between the time he left last night and now. What it was didn’t matter. “I’m not going to hurt you, Autumn. I promise.”
“You can’t make that promise.”
He held out a hand. “Honey, just trust me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“This is about Vegas.” He dropped his hand. “Still.”
“It happened, Sam.”
“You’re right. It did, but we were different people then.” He pointed to himself. “I was different. I’m not asking you to forget what happened. I don’t believe that’s even possible for either of us. But if you can’t get past it, then how can we move forward with our lives?” How could they make a life together? Something he wanted as badly as he’d ever wanted anything in his life. More than winning the Stanley Cup, he wanted to win his family.
She shook her head, and the pain in her eyes tore at his heart even as it pissed him off. “I don’t know.” She picked up her tote and headed toward the door. “I have to go.”
Sam watched Autumn leave, and it was one of the hardest things he’d ever forced himself to do. Over the sound of Conner’s movie, he heard the garage door shut down the hall. He loved her. He wanted a life with her. But he didn’t know if it was going to happen, and he didn’t know what to do.
He moved up the stairs, past Conner lying on the couch with a remote in one hand. “Can you turn down that TV?” he asked as he moved into the kitchen
The sound faded, and he opened the refrigerator. “Thank you.” All of his life, he’d fought hard for everything. He’d fought and, most of the time, he’d eventually won. He was dogged that way, but he wasn’t so sure he could win Autumn. She was an immovable force. Stubborn as hell, and he didn’t know if he had enough fight left in him to change her mind.
He took out a bottle of water and twisted off the top. The telephone hooked to the wall rang until it went to voice mail. Maybe he should just walk away. He wanted a future with her, but maybe there was too much damage for her to ever get over it. Maybe he should just get out now before he sank himself even further. Until he choked and went under completely.
The telephone immediately rang again. He was angry. If he was a violent man, he’d go kick the living shit out of someone. If he hadn’t just returned from the injured list, he might ram his head through the wall. The telephone kept ringing, a nagging annoyance snapping his control. He walked across the floor and glanced at the caller identification. Normally, he would have just picked up the receiver and slammed it back down.
Instead he picked up. “Hello?”
“You have a collect call,” the automated voice said, “from… Vince . . . an inmate at Clark County Jail. Will you accept the charges?”
Chapter Seventeen
Any Man of Mine:
Shocks Me with Random Kindness
“Do you think bailing me out is going to win points with my sister?”
Sam looked across his truck at Vince and the shiner closing one eye and the knot on his forehead. He didn’t think there was anything that was going to win points with Autumn. She was a hardheaded woman with an immovable heart. “I’m not going to tell Autumn. She doesn’t need to worry about you.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
Sam slowed and stopped at a red light. “I know you will.”
Vince had been charged with assault. Apparently, he’d kicked some ass in a biker bar. Sam didn’t hold kicking a little ass against a guy, but he didn’t like Vince any more than Vince liked him. “It probably wasn’t wise to take on a whole bar.”
Vince grunted. “Says the guy who takes on a bunch of hockey players almost every night.”
“That’s different. That’s my job. I don’t fight for free.” Not anymore. The light changed, and he stepped on the gas. “I have a really good lawyer. I’ll give you his card.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“I know, but you’re going to take it.” He was tired. Tired of fighting the past. There was no way to win with Autumn. He was probably better off knowing that before rather than later. Before he bought a big ring and made a fool out of himself. “I don’t want you upsetting her with your bullshit.”
“Me? Oh that’s rich. You’re the one who knocked her up and left her in a hotel.”
He looked across at the former Navy SEAL. At the man people thought was a hero. “We all know what happened six years ago. Autumn and I are working past it,” he lied.
Vince laughed. “You sure Autumn is working to get past it? I know my sister. She’s a Haven. Forgive and forget is not in our vocabulary.”
Yeah. He’d figured that out on his own. Received the message pretty clear. “Tell me something, frogman. Have you ever done something you regret so much that the guilt stays with you for years? Maybe the rest of your life?”
Vince was silent for several long moments, then said, “Once or twice.”
As much as he really hated to admit it, in that moment he saw a bit of himself in Vince. “I regret what I did to Autumn, and I’ve been trying like hell to make it up to her.” He slowed and took an exit to Kent.
“Huh.” Vince took a pair of aviator sunglasses out of his breast pocket and slid them onto his swollen face. “How’s that working out so far?”
Not so well. After that morning, he wasn’t so sure it would. He’d told her he’d never hurt her again, and she’d hadn’t believed him. Hadn’t trusted him and the more he thought about it, the more it pissed him off.
“I guess I should thank you for bailing me out,” Vince said, as if the mere words caused him added pain.
It was Sam’s turn to grunt. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Vince crossed his arms over his chest. “And don’t go thinking this makes us square. I’m still going to kick your ass someday.”
Sam smiled. “You’re gonna try and kick my ass someday. You might know a hundred ways to kill a man, but I know a hundred ways to make a man wish he were dead.”
Vince chuckled. “If it weren’t for you being a colossal dickweed, I might actually like you.”
Sam didn’t call. He didn’t call the night before he left town, nor for the next two days. Finally, on the third day, he called and asked for Conner. Just the sound of his voice lifted Autumn’s heart even as it plunged to her stomach. She could hardly breathe past the pleasurable ache. When he was through talking with his son, he hung up. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk to her that day. Nor the day after, when he called and only spoke with his son.
It was for the best, she told herself. Best for Conner and her. The backs of her eyes stung, and she could not hold back the tears that splashed down her cheeks. She’d never thought the heart she’d carefully
pieced back together could break even more, but it did. She was miserable and didn’t know what to do.
Just after noon, Vince pulled his big black truck into the parking space outside her office window. She wasn’t in the mood to see her brother, but maybe he’d take her to lunch and help take her mind off her troubles. Maybe he had a really great Christmas present for her that would cheer her up.
“Wow. You look like shit,” he said as he walked into her office.
Autumn blew her nose. “Thanks.” She pointed to his black eye. “So do you. What happened?”
Of course he didn’t answer. “Why are you crying?”
She shook her head. If he could keep a secret, so could she. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Normally, he would have pressed and worn her down until she told him. Instead, he asked, “Is Sam in town?”
Sam? Autumn couldn’t remember a time when Vince hadn’t referred to Sam as “the idiot” or worse. Something was very wrong. Like maybe Vince had fallen and hit his head really hard and not only given himself a black eye, but brain damage as well. “He’s in L.A. Why?”
“I wanted to talk to him. When will he be back?”
“Tomorrow night sometime.”
“That’s too late. I won’t be here.”
“Why?” She rose from behind her desk. “Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving town.”
“No!” Her jaw dropped. “Why?” Why was her life turning to crap all at the same time?
“I have to do something.”
“What?” She moved around the desk toward her brother.
“Nothing I can talk about.”
“Are you running from the law?”
“No.”
“An angry girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
“NO!”
She placed her hand on her chest, and concern for her brother pushed her own troubles aside. “I’m your sister. You can tell me anything, and I’ll always love you. No matter what.”
“I love you, too, but there are just some things it’s best you don’t know.” He put up one palm. “I’m not going to talk about it. So don’t ask.”
Any Man of Mine Page 21
